Abûrik, Fracture
by AsherAnd
Summary: A series of times Thranduil saw Dís.
1. First Sight

The first time he'd seen the youngest of Thror's grandchildren, he'd been called to his ally's throne room for some unknown purpose. He'd passed the noble's children on his way toward the heart of Erebor and couldn't help but watch them play. Stunted, ugly little things in his opinion, none of them all too bright. They fought with wooden swords, shouting raucous things at each other in Khuzdul, not a drop of intelligence between them. He'd been gathering his robes to move on when the sound of an elven harp being strummed caught his attention. It seemed as if it were coming from among the children, but search as he might, he couldn't find an elfling amongst the dwarrow-seed. A child's voice soon chimed in with the melody, singing an old elven ballad about the death of one's love in the summer. It wasn't perfect by any stretch of his imagination, but it was adept and more than should have been expected among the halls of dwarves. He scanned the area once more, searching in vain for one of his kinsman, only to have his eyes rest on a smaller dwarf-child toward the back of the area, the instrument cradled in it's arms. This one was different from the others, he could tell. Its clothing was finer than those of it's peers and its hair was braided with diamonds, shimmering whenever it turned its head. This one was of Thror's line. He watched for a minute more as the child finished the song before approaching. He towered at least six feet above it, but when the child looked up, there was no fear in its eyes. "Where did you learn to play that, lad?" His Khuzdul was out of practice and strongly accented, but her was sure the young dwarf understood, because it rose, not even up to his knee and had the audacity to glare at him.

"I'm. A. Girl." It spat back in Sindarin. Thranduil raised an eyebrow. Well, this certainly was an interesting turn of events. The tiny dwarrowdam had her hands balled into fists on her hips. He knew, unlike the foolish men, that there were indeed female dwarves. However, there were so few of them and they were rarely seen. He was surprised this one had been let out of her room. He was even more surprised, however, to hear her speak to him in the language of his people without a moment's hesitation. "And I read about it in a book my brother gave me. I have to be educated if I'm going to be king one day." The Elven-king felt a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth, but he kept t under control.

"Thorin son of Thrain is going to be King. I'd say you have a lot of nobles in front of you in line for the throne."

"Just Thorin and Frerin. Besides, Thorin only wants to be a warrior and be king. Frerin only wants to study his books and practice with his sword. If I can do everything they can and be better at it, maybe Father will let me be King Under the Mountain." She turned back to her harp and continued to play and sing, ignoring the strange elf for the moment and ending their conversation. He was amused, he had to admit. In all of dwarven history, not once had there been a Queen Under the Mountain. Of course, he wasn't going to tell the dwarfling that. He turned and walked back toward the main path and his guards.

"Maybe."


	2. The Second Time

The second time he saw the youngest of Thrain's brood, it was in his own halls. She'd been found hunting in his forests and as she was not known and a dwarf, she was guilty of trespassing in the highest degree. Thranduil hadn't been paying attention when they'd brought her in and had read off a list of her charges. He'd merely planned to sentence her to death like he had the others who'd come before, but when he asked a customary question before her sentencing, her answer surprised him. It had been nearly seven decades since he'd last seen the tiny dwarrowdam, and she'd scuttled across his mind only thrice since that time. He didn't know why he still expected her to be a child, perhaps because that was the only way he'd ever seen her, but the dwarf that stood before him now definitely wasn't a child.

"And what do you have to say for yourself, Dwarf?" He questioned in Quenya, not lifting his eyes from the trade agreement in his lap.

"I'm. A. Woman." There was that same biting tone, spitting back at him in Sindarin. "So the correct term would be dwarrowdam, not dwarf." Thranduil frowned and lifted his eyes from the parchment, looking down at the small, hooded figure on the ground of his throne room.

"Remove its cloak." A silvan elf complied and the cowl was torn away to indeed reveal a woman and the princess of the dwarves. Dark hair was braided in twisted, complicated patterns, sweeping over shoulders, forming knots and cascading over shoulders like a waterfall. Her eyes were bright blue and she would have almost been beautiful -for a dwarf- if it had not been for the red, angry burns covering most of her body. Her skin was a strange amalgamation of creamy, smooth perfection and blackened burns. To make matter's worse, she was heavy with child. His grip on the arms of his throne tightened as she was pulled to her feet.

"You see before you, coward, The desolation the Smaug wrought." He didn't answer her at first, having nothing to say. The king tented his fingers in front of his lips and watch the snarling dwarrowdam far beneath him.

"You were the child playing the harp." He spoke finally, recognizing her through the years and damage.

"Oh, the great king Thranduil recognizes me. How will I stay upright." There was bitterness in her every word, in every gesture. Her hatred for him was palpable. "Of course, I honored you as a child. You were the first one to ever give any sort of credit to my delusion that I might one day be king. I thought of our conversation as my first diplomatic act. " She gave a dry laugh. "I thought you the strongest king I'd ever seen. At least, I did. Then I saw you at the hill."

One of the silvan's tugged reluctantly at the cuffs they'd bound her with. "You must speak respectfully to the king-"

"I see no kings here! Only vow-breakers and those who would turn their back on allies." She was attempting to shame him in front of his court. He would not allow this to stand. He couldn't.

"Take her to a room and get some healers to tend to her wounds." He murmured, waving them away.

" I saw you standing on that hill, astride an elk, hundreds of elven soldiers behind you and I thought that our salvation was nigh." Dis hissed as she was gathered and the Silvan tried to usher her out of the room. "I saw the great king Thranduil and a cry went up from my people because we thought we were saved. But you, you looked down at the slaughter and the burning, at the suffering and the pain of my people, you looked down at the dragon's waste and you turned away from us!"

"I would not brave a dragon and risk the lives of my men for a people who'd disrespected me-"

"You would have braved a thousand dragons and risked the lives of all your people if Nauglamir had been in danger, you snake." The guards were tugging at her now trying to hold back the female dwarf who seemed stronger now than the chains that bound her. "My grandfather paid for his sins with his life and I will ensure, Thranduil son of Oropher, that you do not escape the same fate." He did not meet her glare and instead turned his eyes back to the document in his lap, feigning disinterest.

"Make sure she is healed and fed properly. Her child will be born any day now." He murmured as they pulled her away, her curses echoing around the hall. He felt a peculiar feeling knot up his chest and dry his throat, a feeling he hadn't felt since the second age after the birth of his son and the subsequent death of his wife: Guilt. He shoved it violently away, refusing to accept responsibility for her pain. His fingers brushed over the spot where his own burn markings lay hidden. He'd been able to hide the mars of he serpents with elven magic. Tomorrow he would offer her the same thing.

The next morning when he walked to her chambers, however, she was gone. No broken locks, no bent door frames to suggest how she did it. The child of Thrain had simply vanished as if she'd never been there at all, the promise of his death still on her lips.


	3. Thrice: Part One

The third time he saw her, he stayed.

Sometimes when he grew bored of the trivial matters of his kingdom, he ventured beyond his borders under disguise. Not too far beyond, of course, just far enough to get a taste of something different. It had been only ten years since Dis's disappearance and though he was still hesitant, he no longer executed everyone who came into his kingdom. The first three years he'd spent frantically searching for the dwarf woman to the point where his son began t worry t his father was obsessed. The next seven were spent calmly shifting through records of travel and sightings by those who wandered through Mirkwood. Despite his best efforts, he could not find someone who was in the business of not being found. He didn't know why it bothered him so much that she'd just disappeared without a trace, but he would always remember the way she'd spat at him, the hatred in her eyes as she spoke of his cowardice. Still, the intent of tonight was not to think about the lost princess. It was to gather information of the nearby world.

Thranduil entered the tavern confidently, his disguise hiding any signs of elf from those around him. It was a small bit of magic really, a trifle, but with a tiny nudge, the mind could be convinced to trick itself endlessly. Currently, he appeared as a ranger of the north, scruffy and not all that tall, what little hair he had hanging in dirty blonde waves to the base on his neck. He'd worn this visage before, and the barkeep knew him. He shot the man a smile as he entered and took a seat at a table by himself. The owner waved back at him and called the name of a wench to go serve him. He hated the alcohol of men, but he had to keep up appearances and if every other human in the bar was drinking it, then so would he. He heard two sets of footsteps approaching his table, one a few beats behind the other and he looked up only to be met with a sight he never expected: Dís stood before him, dressed as a bar maid, her burns carefully wrapped and hidden, save for those on her face. There was a dwarfling clinging to her skirts, her hair a golden as the precious metals that Erebor was once known for. He was large for a dwarf child and there was no doubt in his mind that her mother had lain with a human. False green eyes traveled back up toward the face of the dwarven woman, now eyeing him with thinly veiled impatience.

"Are you going to ask for some ale or not? I've got others to tend to 'sides you, _sir._" She spoke the word sir as if it were an insult of the highest order. Thranduil knew he was acting daft but he couldn't stop staring at her. The child who'd played the harp had grown into a woman. An angry, poor woman, but a woman none the less.

Time dragged slowly on for elves. It took nearly two millennia for them to fully mature into adulthood and then they virtually stopped aging. The legends said they were immortal, and so far that had proved true. Those who weren't taken by illness or war seemed to live on indefnitely. Dwarves were so different. Three centuries and their lives were over, out in the blink of an eye. They were fragile, short-lived little creatures who were there one day and gone the next. They grew so fast. She couldn't have been more than eighty-five and yet here she was, fully-grown with a bairn at her skirts. His eyes drifted toward the scars on her neck and lower jaw. They'd faded somewhat, but it took centuries for dragon burns to heal. His were minor in comparison to her's and they still weren't completely scarred over. Her jaw muscle clenched and his attention snapped back up to her eyes. "Sir, I'd appreciate it if you'd order some ale and get the hell out. I don' appreciate bein' stared at." She was faking an accent in the common speech. He looked up to answer her, but was distracted once more by the child tugging at the hilt of his sword. "Vali, don't touch him."

"Amad, why does he have a sword?"

"I don't know, love, ask him. I've other tables to tend to." The former princess left, perfectly content to leave her daughter with a total stranger. The child blinked up at him, hazel eyes wide with curiosity. She tugged at his hilt once more and he lightly lifted her hands off of it.

"Children shouldn't play with swords."

"My amad lets me practice with her's." Thranduil snorted.

"Your amad is very brave." The dwarfling, Vali, frowned slightly.

"You know her?" His jaw clenched and her looked away from her, wishing she'd stop asking him questions.

"No."

"Liar." The Elven-King started and looked down at the girl who was staring up at him with the same look of irritation her mother had given him nearly sixty-five years before in the halls of Erebor.

"Pardon me?"

"I called you a liar. You do know her. You looked at her like she'd been away for a long time and showed up unexpectedly." Thranduil grumbled something about her being a rude little girl, snatched up his cloak and left the tavern, the gaze of Vali following after him. He made his way along the elven road back toward Mirkwood. He had to learn to control his facial expressions. The child could have revealed him. Even still, he knew the knowledge that he could be found out wouldn't stop him from going back and seeing Dis again.


	4. Thrice: Part Two

He's back a week later, still done up in his human disguise. The bar keep waves at him again and he nods and takes his seat. Thranduil hasn't ever been out of his kingdom twice in such close proximity, he must admit that he's anxious. He tells himself that he's not worried about Dis, that he came back because he didn't get the chance to learn anything about the surrounding kingdoms on his last outing, that he just wanted to relax without the stigma of being king, but he knows that it's not true. He's looking around for her when a voice calls out behind him.

"Are you actually gonna drink this time, or are you just going to sit there and look pretty?" Thranduil flinched and looked over his shoulder and there was Dis, standing behind him, arms crossed over chest, an eyebrow cocked upward. He didn't respond at first, eyes drifting down to the scar on her jaw, then lower still over her collar bone and down toward her chest. The burns covered most of her exposed skin, and though she'd wrapped her arm and torso, she couldn't hide her face. He wanted to whisper the words that would hide them, make it look as if she'd never been hurt, but he couldn't. Not without revealing himself in the process. So, he settled for a nod and something grumbled under his breath about a pint. He watches her as she returns to the kitchens to draw his drink from an ancient barrel. Her head is held high, shoulders back and despite her squalid surroundings, she walks as if she were still the princess and there was still a mountain for her title to sit under. As his eyes follow her, he spots a flash of golden hair weaving between the legs of patrons, occasionally filling a mug or snatching up coins from tables. It's Vali. He knows this even before he hears her shrill little voice,, demanding one of the customers give her the three coins he shorted her. Thranduil's eyes narrow as he watches the exchange.

Vali, brave little soldier that she was, was verbally berating the guard, hand outstretched, waiting for her dues. The men a that table had already had too much to drink, that much was obvious. Their noses were red and their eyes were bleary with bad decisions and poor judgement. One of them laughed and roughly pushed the child down, trying to get back to his drinking. She looked stunned, but no less determined than she had been before. She rose and demanded loudly for him to pay her. That caught everyone's attention and no one's more than Dis. The dwarrowdam was watching her daughter now like a dragon watched its horde. The guard turned round once more and caught Vali across the face, the slap resounding round the small tavern. The child cried out and the man grabbed her by the front of her shirt, beer tainted breath causing her to wince. "Listen here, you halfling bastard-" Whatever the man was about to say had been cut off by the point of a dwarvish knife being pressed against his throat and Dis's foot pressed against his groin. He yelped and nearly toppled backwards, but she steadied him. How she'd moved so quickly was beyond Thranduil's comprehension. He too had drawn a blade, but even he hadn't gotten there as quickly as the child's mother.

Her eyes were alight with something akin to hellfire and if she hadn't had as much self restraint, Thranduil had no doubt she would have killed the man. She was a fearsome creature and despite his general dislike of the dwarves, in that moment, he held high respect for their princess. Dis looked half-wild hunched over the human he knife pressed against his throat, a single drop of blood seeping from the puncture. No one dared move. Despite her stature and status, everyone in the tavern felt the fear of the guard with the knife to his throat: This woman was dangerous and not to be trifled with. "If you ever so much as _look _at my daughter again, I will take you by the throat, drag you to Mordor and toss you into the fires of Mount Doom myself, Am. I. Clear?" He was surprised that she didn't add a 'peasant' to the end of her speech. The man didn't answer and Thranduil could see Dis growing impatient. Before she could do something rash, he gently grabbed her wrist.

"I think that's enough." The fire in her eyes was directed at him for a moment before settling slightly upon seeing a somewhat familiar face. "He's learned." Her eyes flicked back down to the pained face of the human for a moment before she stepped back, collecting herself.

"Escort him out."

"I would be my honor." Thranduil grabbed the recovering man by the back of his coat and dragged him to the door, dark thoughts clouding his mind. He could bring the man back to Mirkwood and have him drawn up on false charges. It would be his pleasure to let him rot in jail for a few decades. Then again, that would be lying and something not befitting of a king. A hundred different courses of action raced round and round in his head each one more violent than the last. How _dare _this mortal assault a member of the royal family? The Elven King tossed him into the dirt and watched him scamper away, but not before he slipped his change pouch off of his belt. Thranduil honestly didn't know why he cared so much about this child and her mother. Regardless of their former royal status, they were still dwarves, just barley above humans on the scale of racial importance. Still, he cared. Why on earth he did was beyond him, but it was too late for him to think about that now. He had to deliver the money and get back home before someone of importance noticed his absence.

This chapter was crappy, sorry guys. I know. It'll get better next time. We're gonna start on the shippy part of this fic XD.


	5. Thrice: Part Three

"Thank you."

Dis muttered the word, as if it were shameful to be grateful to anyone. Thranduil looked over his shoulder at the small woman now wrapped in a cloak and clutching the hand of her daughter, surprisingly calm despite the events of the evening. Vali's wrist was wrapped, but otherwise the child seemed to be fine. The Elf frowned down at her, unsure of what she meat. She rolled her eyes and huffed. She obviously wasn't used to being indebted. The princess had probably long since learned how to care for herself. "Thank you for drawing your sword. I saw you after the human put his hands on my daughter you drew." He blinked in surprise. He didn't know anyone had seen, and even if they had, he wasn't expecting thanks. After all, he'd been too slow. He hadn't prevented anything. "...and for stopping me from killing that man." He didn't quite know how to respond. While the spell changed his appearance and height, it did nothing for his voice. He cough once, trying to buy himself some time before speaking.

"It was my pleasure, my lady. It is not often one meets one of the Khazâd in these hills." A dark eyebrow arched upward and he feared that he may have been discovered, but she spoke:

"And what know you of the Khazâd?"

"Enough to know their princess when I see her." Thraduil gave a shallow bow. "Lady Dis." Out of habit more than anything, Dis half-curtsied back, trying not to make herself obvious."

"It has been long since anyone called me by that name or title." She did not sound wistful , or as though she longed for the wealth and opulence of her homeland. If anything, Dis sounded sad. Sad and terribly, terribly alone.

"Far too long, my lady. I know of the...desolation the dragon brought upon your mountain. I hope you will forgive my impropriety, but that is why I stared so closely in the tavern. I too know the marks of dragon flame." He lifted a hand to his hood and drew it back slowly. He did not have to hide in this form, there were no Elvish standards of beauty or subjects willing him to hide his face. Here Thranduil hid himself from no one and saw no shame, though in Mirkwood, his true face would bring it. The hood dropped, revealing a horrid expanse of scars, pockmarks and burns. There were holes in his cheeks and his left eye was clouded with blindness. He was hideous and he knew it. In truth, he'd revealed himself to shock the dwarrowdam into saying something hypocritical. Maybe if he shocked her, he could get her to say something low and rid himself of this strange fondness he held for her. Instead of turning away or issuing noises of disgust, neither of the dwarf woman showed any signs of surprise.

"I'd suspected you'd hidden your face for such a reason as this." She reached up to him and rested her palm against the marring. He almost flinched away, not wanted her to taint herself with the filthiness of his being, but her hand was soft and smooth despite her years of hard labor. Her fingers were cool against his skin, almost a salve. Without realizing it, his eyes had closed against her touch, only opening once she'd withdrawn. " You've healed well, son of man. What is your name?" Thranduil blanked. millennia of orating and running a kingdom and he couldn't even make up a name.

"I-I was never given one, my lady. If I ever was, it is long forgotten by now."

"Well, then, son of man, do you have a place to spend the night?" Thranduil wanted to respond that he did, in fact, have a place to stay. That he was a king, that he needed to get home, but he found himself unable to speak and just shook his head. "We can put you up for a night. That's the least we can do after what you've done." He didn't particularly think he'd done anything, but he wasn't going to argue with her. Besides, one night away from his kingdom wouldn't matter much, would it? No, of course it wouldn't. So, he followed after her, occasionally stealing a glance as she swung her daughter's hand back and forth and whispered to her about the gods in the stars. The way she told stories was beautiful and he saw her light up as she spoke to the child, feeding her as much of her history and culture as she could on the road. Vali would saw something funny, or ask a question that he thought was inane, but Dis would tilt her head back and laugh, joy written on her features, something he'd never thought her capable of. Pure, unadulterated joy. And it was beautiful.

And so, the scarred Elven-King disguised as a ranger began to fall for the runaway dwarven princess posing as a barmaid. 

* * *

Hey, guys~! Thanks for sticking with me this far! Reviews are always read, loved and appreciated as always and I'd ove some suggestions for cover art for this thing. Thanks~!


	6. Four Months Ahead: Morning

It was not easy, living with Dis, but he made it work.

Luckily, the house she inhabited hadn't been made with dwarves in mind, so he could fit inside of it comfortably, but she and her children were so tiny, he was scared he'd get up in the middle of the night and step on one of them by mistake. They all moved so silently it was hard for him to hear them, it was as if they floated more than walked. In the four months he'd stayed with them, he'd found himself growing ever fonder of both the dwarrowdam and her two children. He'd learned of her history and sought to aid her in any way he could. She had been married, it turned out, when he'd seen her in his own kingdom. Her husband had been a noble from Gondor and a good man. She'd loved him dearly, but he'd been killed in a minor people's revolt in the capitol while he'd been there on business. She'd had two children by him before his death: Vali, the eldest and the one he'd know at the tavern, and Dháli, a son. Dis was an excellent mother and he swore she would have face anything the world could throw at her for the sake of protecting them. She was defensive of them, never allowing anyone too close, especially not members of Durin's Folk. They always judged them the harshest and Thranduil knew that if they'd recognized their princess, their mouths would have remained shut. At any rate, she always forbade him from telling anyone, so there wasn't really anything he could do to stop the whispers. After awhile, newcomers began assuming that he was Vali and Dháli's father and while Dis said nothing to promote these theories, she said nothing to dissuade them either.

He found that he didn't really mind. They'd grown comfortable with him being around and just last week, Vali had slipped an called him 'Ada' by mistake. She'd apologized profusely afterwards, but he'd assured her that he wasn't upset. He'd become close with them, and if she'd felt close enough to him to slip into calling him Father...well, he wasn't going to sever that connection. And speaking of connections, Dis had let him in. She'd allowed him to speak to her in a way he never would have, had she known his true face. He wasn't afraid to admit that they'd become good friends. Despite the brave face she put on, the scars the dragon left ran deeper than just her skin. The princess was horribly afraid and most nights she'd wake up with night terrors. She was used to soothing them herself, but after an episode she usually couldn't return to sleep without being comforted. That was how he'd ended up sharing her bed. He'd heard her crying in her room one night from his own bed and had risen to investigate. He cries were muffled and she was trying to choke them back, as to not wake her children. They didn't know their mother's fears and she wanted it to stay that way. On an urge, he'd clambered into bed with her and held her until her sobs turned to whimpers and tapered off gradually and she was asleep once more. He would have left her, but she'd clung to him for dear life and not having the heart to wake her once more, he'd settled down with her in his arms. She'd never pushed him away when he came to her and more often than not, it was for her own good.

Thranduil blinked slowly as daylight seeped into the room through a crack in the curtains. It was midmorning already. He'd woken late. In front of him, Dis was still fast asleep, her back pressed against his chest, his arm slung over her waist, her dark hair spread out around her like a curtain. When she slept, he could almost see the chid with the elven harp sitting in the halls of Erebor, dreaming of nothing more than inheriting her father's kingdom. The girl who would be king. Those dreams had been crushed and silenced long ago, however, and it was partially his fault. She shifted and her facial burns became visible, now smooth but no less horrible. They were also his fault. He brushed his lips against her jaw, waking her gently. "Dis. It is late." He promised himself that the movement was innocent. After all, nothing had happened between them thus far and, if it was up to him, nothing ever would. He could not afford the luxury of staying with the dwarven family forever. He'd heard tell that Mirkwood had sent out riders to search the nearby kingdoms for any sign of the missing monarch, and he knew that unless he returned soon, one of his sons would be crowned. He couldn't not lose the crown and the stability of his kingdom for a woman.

No matter how fond of her he was.

He whispered her name again and she stirred briefly before rolling over and tucking her head beneath his chin. She muttered something about it being too early to be awake under her breath and he laughed. She'd had a late night at the tavern last night and hadn't gotten home until the wee hours of the night. She was exhausted, but there were things to do. "It's nearly noon." Her eyes snapped open at that and she hit his arm lightly.

"Damn it, why didn't you wake me?" The dwarrowdam rolled out of bed, dressed only in one of his shirts. He knew from the outside, anyone looking in would have assumed that he was sleeping with her. In a more implicative sense. It had simply been the closest thing to her at the time. Thranduil sat up and stretched, yawning as the princess pulled the over-sized garment over her head and dropped it to the floor, her back to him. She expected him to turn away, and most times he did. Nearly always. After all, he was no cad. He was an elven-king, and he pinnacle of moral uprightness. Save when it came to a certain dwarrowdam. Most of his kin found dwarves shrunken, hideous little things. He couldn't blame them for it. None of them had seen Dis. She was beautiful to him in all regards, dwarf or not and in another life he would have courted her, but it was not proper. Not after what he did. Then again, no standard of propriety stopped him from sneaking a glance at her every once in awhile. He loved to watch her in the mornings when she released her hair from the single, thick braid she kept it trapped in at night. It flowed past her shoulders, impossibly long and dark. Her body was lean and athletic, built for warfare, but no less feminine. There was nothing flat or straight about her. Even her hair twisted and curved as it fell behind her. Iluvatar help him, he was taken with her. He'd developed a small...what did the young elves call it? A _crush _on the woman who'd grown to be one of his greatest friends. It was sad, really.

"Āri, are you staring again?" His eyes had just reached her back when she'd called him out. He felt his cheeks coloring rapidly and he struggled to maintain an air of composure. It was no shame in the Khuzdul culture to be unclothed, but it was in his own and he'd disgraced himself. 

"My apologies, Dis. I meant you no disrespect, I-" He'd begun blabbering out apologies, trying to compensate for his transgression, but she'd tilted her head back and laughed at him.

"Do not apologies for something you can not control. Curiosity is a cruel master indeed." She looked over her shoulder, blue eyes half closed in laughter. She was still bare, but he kept his eyes level with hers. Now would be a perfect time to reveal himself, to make them both bare. He could do it, he could tell her the truth.

And he could lose her forever. He's on the verge, but then Dis is slipping her dress on over her head and asking him to tie it for her and leaving and his opportunity is gone for the day. It's only once he hears her leave that he drops the aura surrounding himself and stares back into the face of the true Thranduil: scarred and ancient and terribly afraid of losing someone he's only just gotten. 


	7. Five Months Ahead: Evening

He enjoyed watching her as she worked, lifting trays that were nearly half her size and shuffling them around to tables. He tried to help her with them sometimes, but whenever he reached to take a platter from her, she'd slap his hands away and mutter for him to go be productive somewhere else. She slaved over her work and labored as if her life and the lives of all she cared about depended on her performance at the tavern. Not once had Thranduil seen her drop a tray or so much as tilt off balance to compensate for the weight. She never complained, and at night when the work was finished, she'd always have time to spare for her little ones no matter how tired she was, and she was tired. Dis was exhausted and he did his best to allay her fears so that she could sleep peacefully at night. Still, the sun rose to early and set too late for her, but she would not take any help for herself. At first he thought it was because he was a man, and she had always been fiercely independent. He'd thought that he was unwanted, unneeded and a nuisance in her home. But then he'd gotten closer to her, a small feat within himself- and discovered that she couldn't accept help, because in her mind, that meant giving up. Dis had to go on pretending everything was fine for the sake of her sanity. If she accepted aid, that meant that the dragon truly had crippled her. He understood that feeling. He'd been the same way after the beast of Gondolin had scarred him and took away half his sight.

He stood behind the counter, refilling mugs of ale and passing them out to weary travelers as he watched Dis bustle back and forth between tables Vali and Dali on her heels. For the most part she paid no attention to who she was serving, dropping plates of food, her children gathering change from the customers. She only looked up when her name was called, the false name she'd told the people of this village. Occasionally those who didn't know it would holler 'wench' or some other obscenity. It irritated him to see her addressed as such. Her station was above it. Then again, he didn't have everyone running about referring to him as 'liege' or 'majesty'. She placed another pewter dish on a table and began walking toward the kitchen, clearly weary. He caught her eye and gave her a smile, and she returned it lighting up the entire tavern with her eyes.

Oh, he would have gone to war for that smile and defended its owner to his last breath. Dis lingered a bit longer than she had in the past, something softening in her expression as she looked at him. His chest seized up and he felt the urge -for about the seventh time that day- to scoop her up and kiss her. He doubted she would stand for being held, though. Before he could act on any urge, she went through the dim doorway into the kitchens to continue her work. Vali and Dali stayed outside, being too short to enter. The cook often accused them of getting underfoot and sticking their hands in to pots and pans to steal hunks of meat. Apparently the boiling water didn't bother them too much. Vali climbed up onto the counter, mop of straight blonde hair in her eyes as usual. He ruffled her hair and she laughed. He could see why people thought that she was his daughter, even in this form. The hair matched, as did the build. Dali was stockier, built like his mother, while Vali's build was willowy and languid. She seemed to flow from place to place, as inconsistent as a stream. She would have made a terrific archer. He'd have to teach her some time. She spots a customer wrapping up and scurries way to take the man's money, but not before pressing a kiss against her Da's cheek. She's been calling him that with increasing frequency as of late, when she thinks her mother can't hear. He doesn't mind it, and he smiles wryly when she does, knowing full well her mother would disapprove.

More and more often, he thinks of his future here, of the life he has with Dis and the lives of the two children he now thinks of as his own. He's grown used to this face, this visage, this falsehood that he perpetuates day after day. He knows now that he could stay here forever, happily and not give a thought to the elves of Mirkwood, besides. They wouldnever accept their king's decision, if it could be called that. Iluvatar, help him, he'd fallen in love with a dwarf. 'Dwarrowdam' He subconscious corrected. She'd made sure he'd never forget the proper term for her ever again.

And she didn't even know who he was.

That bothered him to no end, but he would not sacrifice their happiness for a trifle. There was still a part of him, a part that was free from Dis's allure that whispered vehemently in the back of his mind that wile the princess had come to care for his scars and malformation, she could never truly love his beauty. She'd hated him then and she would surely hate him now. She would scorn him and send him away, and they'd never see each other again. He would not risk his life here for a truth that she was better left not knowing. He set down the glass he was cleaning and tried to ignore the weight of truth on his heart, hoping it would lessen the more it was hidden.

-/.\-

It was past midnight when they finally arrived home and deposited the children into their beds. Dis was weary as usual, but she did her best to hide it, bustling around the main area of the house, sweeping and doing anything she could to perfect the room. He didn't know why he tired herself so, her house was already immaculate.

"Dis, go to sleep." He murmured, removing his boots and setting them in the corner, as she'd instructed.

"I will soon, I just-"

"_Dis_." She knew better than to argue with that voice. The woman sighed and returned the broom to its station, dusting her hand off on her skirt.

"Fine. " She sighed and closed her eyes, seeming barely able to stay on her feet. "Fine, you win." Thranduil turned and headed back to their room -that was what it was now, their room. He rarely slept outside of it, unless they'd argued about something. She was a fiery thing, and simply because she'd had two children and aged did not mean her temper had disappeared.- sliding into the bed nearly as soon as he'd donned what he usually slept in: nothing more than a pair of old breaches. He'd already been drifting off when he heard her enter quietly. Her dress hit the floor shortly after and he tried to stop those base thoughts from running through his mind. He'd admittedly grown better at managing them over the past months and channelling that energy into other things. He would not approach her, however. It would not be proper.

"Āri."That was her name for him. He had no idea what it meant, but she'd set to calling him it after nearly a week's stay when 'Son of Man' had gotten old. He grunted in response to her call, but she didn't respond for a few more moments.

"Āri." He yawned, but didn't open his eyes. He was exhausted and so was she. Besides that, she was using the voice she used when she wanted to have long conversations.

"What is it Dis? And can it wait 'til morning?"

"Āri." She was exasperated now and he sat up.

"For the love of Iluvatar, Dis what do you-" She stopped him mid-sentence. Few beings in his life had had the power to do that. He was ancient, older even than this age, and never had he been stopped cold by a woman. Dis was staring at him shyly, ice blue eyes cast downward as soon as his own landed upon her. Dark hair spilled over her shoulder in a loose braid that framed rose-tinted cheeks and hung nearly to her waist. The entirety of her was bare, not a stitch of clothing to be found. He could see now, full on, that she was strong and built for royalty. While not tall by any means, she stood several inches above other dwarrow women and her features were arched, proud even. Her waist flourished outward to form wide, round hips and strong legs. Her arms were crossed over her chest as he stared and they only tightened. At that moment the girl who would have been king looked as meek as a nursemaid. She looked down, dark hair sweeping over her eyes. "...want."

"I-I know that I am not pleasing to look upon-" He rolled out of bed at that and crossed the room in a few short strides, capturing her face between his hands and pressing his lips against hers with a ferocity that astounded even him.

_"You _are _beautiful."_ He nearly hissed. He wanted her to understand that she was, despite the scars she bore, despite the burns and the circles round her eyes from exhaustion, she was beautiful to him. She looked up at him with all the innocence and purity of a doe, her lips nearly bruised from his reaction. He lowered his mouth to hers once more, gentler this time, yearning in his pursuit. He wrapped his arms around her, amazed was more by how small she was in comparison to him. He was careful with her, trying not to break her as he lifted her and brought her to the bed, never once breaking contact. Dis wrapped her arms around him and he fell backward.

The heat was quickly building between them, as was the tightness in his pants. He was straining against them already and he longed to be free, to bury himself inside of her, to her his name on her lips...even if it wasn't his true name. He groans as her chest presses against his and runs as hand down her back, using the other to extinguish the candle on the side table. He wants to be himself for this. The shift is nearly instantaneous and if Dis felt him change, she didn't say anything, and if her partner seemed a bit taller, his hair a bit straighter, her skin a bit smoother, he was to say that it wasn't her imagination?

-/.\-

Her stamina was incredible.

This thought kept running through his head over and over as he lay in bed with her, totally spent. He was still buried deep inside of her, though Thranduil was sure she'd fallen asleep nearly the moment they were done for the final time. He lazily traced the ridges and valley's of her burns lightly, watching as her chest rose and fell with each breath. He could stay here, like this, forever. He would give up his kingdom for her, gladly, and live among mortals for the rest of his days if it meant staying here with her. His eyes had just begun to drift shut when he heard her speak.

"I love you."

He pressed a kiss to the skin where her jaw and neck met.

"And I, you."


	8. Six Months Ahead: Night

The stars shone brightly as they made their way silently through the Mirkwood. It had been nearly a month since she'd first come to him and they'd joined together. She was no longer shy around him and he went brazenly to her bed, without any fear. They truly had become a unit, reading each other's movements as easily as a pair who'd been together for decades. They hunted together well, making it almost a dance more than an attack. The animals they made their quarry knew not that they were being hunted until the arrows pierced their hide. He didn't know where Dis had learned to shoot, but he didn't question it. She aimed true and hit her mark. She in return didn't question how he knew the Elven roads and the paths to take to avoid spiders and the other dark creatures that lived in the woods. She assumed it was due to his time spent as a ranger. He didn't tell her any different. That night they were tracking a deer through the deeper parts of the forest, moving in shadow over roots as thick as grown men and stones sharp enough to cut a blade in two. It was dangerous, yes, but it had to be done. Famine had struck their village and the rains hadn't come yet. For two months the people of their town had been standing outside, looking to the skies and waiting for a single drop to fall from heaven and end their suffering, but none came. They'd been driven to eating rotted fruits and stale meat in their efforts to fend off the empty hunger the heard clawing at their thresholds. No one had hurt anyone else yet, but Thranduil knew their resolve was weakening. The other day, he'd found a few children sneaking out of an old blind man's house with a loaf of bread. He couldn't bring himself to stop them, but he made sure the elder had enough to live off, and had brought him food that very day. The tension in the town was practically palpable, and in fear of what could be, people had started doing dangerous things.

Dangerous things like combing the Mirkwood for food in the middle of the night.

It had been Dis's idea. He honestly had no intent on returning to the Mirkwood ever again in his life time, but she would not be swayed. She'd told him he could join her or stay at home with the children, but she would be going into the Mirkwood to hunt. She held no fear of elves in her heart and would not hesitate to engage, should they aim at her. That had terrified him. Elves were formidable warriors, and they would not hesitate to kill her, should they see her trespassing. He'd conceded, but only if she allowed him to lead. Surprisingly, she'd let him. For that he was glad, but there was a residual fear in his heart. From Orcs and Spiders he could protect her, but how would he keep her from his kin? Luckily, they hadn't ventured anywhere close to the areas the guards typically roamed, and so he was sure they'd be safe, if for no time other than that night. Dis signaled him and he looked in the direction she'd pointed, making out a buck in the darkness. It was large and well-muscled. Apparently the Mirkwood was not feeling the effects of the famine. He motioned back at her and they began to circle around, her on its left and him on its right. He nocked his arrow and briefly wondered if this was a descendant of his old mount. He let it fly and Dis's followed shortly after, piercing the animal's hide and taking it down before it had time to cry out.

She smiled and was about to let out a celebratory whisper, when an arrow sprouted from her shoulder and her look of happiness was replaced by one of shock. Thranduil whirled around and fired thrice into the darkness from whence the arrow had come, three thunks and a few grunts of pain following each. They had found them. He didn't know how it was possible, unless they'd been following them since they entered the forest. He drew once more and prepared to fire, but the sound of another arrow hitting his love and making her cry out caused him to think twice. Dis was on the ground now, and they were surrounded. He had failed. They emerged from the woods silently and did not walk so much as glide. They were all Silvan elves, save their leader. His son, Legolas. The Elven prince had his head held high and regarded the pair coldly, a mocking glint in his eyes.

"Well, well, what do we have here? Dwarven filth and a Son of Man. Both burnt and ugly." Behind him, two guards advanced and snatched Dis to her feet, none to gently, and tossed her on the ground beside Thranduil's feet. He gripped his arrow tightly and fought the urge to sink the shaft of it into their backs. Instead he sunk to the ground and cradled her, pulling the arrows from her flesh. She cried out in pain, and he felt it as deeply as if it were his own. The elves were moving around him, but he couldn't be bothered right now. Dis was in pain, and while they hadn't wounded her mortally, she would soon die from blood loss or execution if he didn't act.

And so, the Elven-King reached a divergence of paths.

He could let them die. He could let her suffer and be executed and he could die with her, leaving Vali and Dali to grow up on their own, wondering why their parents never came back for them. He could let the mystery of king Thranduil's disappearance go unsolved forever. He could. It was perfectly within his power to do so and be weak.

But he loved her too much. He didn't even teeter on the edge of his decision. There were far too many lives at stake, and he would not allow her to be slaughtered for the sake of his charade. Perhaps he was simply not meant to have happiness. This was not his first time losing a love, but he swore it would be his last and as he sat there, cradling Dis to his chest, listening to his son give execution orders, Thranduil felt his heart break.

"The penalty for trespassing on the lands of King Thranduil is death. Have you any last words?"

"_Cease._" He muttered in Sindarin. They ignore him and continue drawing their arrows. "_Cease._"

And the illusion drops.

Legolas screams for them to disengage and there is a flurry of movement above him, but he only has eyes for Dis, who is ever fading. She regards him with something like fear and he feels the weight of his shame for the first time. Her expression changes from fear to flaming hatred, and from hatred to a cold fury. "You." Her voice is barely there, but he hears it through the melee. "_You_."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, love." One of them snatches Dis from his arms and another hands him reigns.

"My liege." He shakes his head. He doesn't want to be called that. He doesn't want titles and riches and splendor. He wants to go home with Dis to their tiny little house with their children and forget any of this ever happened, but he can't. He can never go back there again.

-/.\-

He goes to see her the next morning in her room. She was given a room this time, one of the suites used for visiting royalty. Which, he supposes bitterly, she is. No one has questioned yet why there is a Dwarrow in the palace, and they dare not. Their king is not in his right mind. There are rumors circulating that he was staying with the Dwarrowdam in a nearby village, that she is a princess, that they have children. He hears them, whether they think he does or not, and they drive him insane. He feels as if he can't breath in this place he once knew like the back of his hand. It's suffocating him and he can't imagine what it's doing to her.

There's a guard posted at her door and he orders him to leave so that he can speak to her alone.

When he enters, she doesn't bother to look at him. She's seated on the bed, staring out the window at the rest of the hidden city. There are bandages on her shoulder and back from where the arrow pierced her and he longs to kiss her, but he can't. He feels her hatred for him like he felt it in his throne room all those years ago, but here it's different. Here, there's an utter brokeness in her hatred.

"It would have been different, had you told me." He stands against the wall, not daring to approach for fear of what she'll do to him.

"Would you have acted any differently?"

She goes silent at that and he tries to take an opportunity to explain himself. "Dis, I didn't set out to hurt you. I just came to get information about the nearby kingdoms, and everything was moving so fast I-"

"Shut up." He does, immediately. "What do you expect me to do? Hm? Tell my children that their Fath-...that you've died? That you're never coming back? And how do I do that, your _majesty? _How do I help two small children cope with grief for the man who would have abandoned them to dragon's fire if they'd been born a few decades earlier?" Thranduil doesn't dare speak, for he knows she holds no interest in paltry words and flowery apologies. Dis let's out a dry, throaty laugh. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn it was a sob. "And I loved you. I thought you were my One." Dwarves were a special kind of being. They could get married and have children and carry on in any way they wished, but they only fell in love once and that love was so powerful that they could feel when their One was upset, or lonely, or scared. Elves had a similar attribute. "But I loved the idea of you. I loved Āri, not the coward who wore his skin. I let you in and I got too close to the flames again, but this burns me far worse than any fire from Smaug." His heart wrenched painfully inside of his chest, but he schooled his features and remained by his post on the wall.

"Dis, please, I'm begging you for-"

"For forgiveness? I will not give it. There was hope after you left us to burn. I saw a small sliver of redemption for you, but after this?" She scoffed. "No. There is no hope for you, the cowardly son of Oropher." She went silent for a moment and he turned to leave, sure that she was dismissing him. "I am with child." Once more she stole the breath from his body. The news that would have had him overjoyed 24 hours ago now increased his shame tenfold. "Twins. I think Raenion and Gweriaeth would be appropriate names, don't you?" It was only then that she looked at him and her eyes were puffy and red from crying. He couldn't bear the knowledge that he was the cause of her pain. As he left the chambers and shut the door, he heard her speak for the final time.

"I hate you."

If he had been any weaker, he would have wept.

* * *

And there you have it, Thranduil's secret is out.

Okay, so there were some questions concerning the time skips and the titles of the chapters. 'Five Months ahead' Is set five moths after the events in 'Four Months Ahead'. Same thing for 'Six Months Ahead'. All in all, Thranduil's lived with dis for about a Year and a quarter. As for the names:  
Raenion: Born of a crooked father in Sindarin  
Gweriaeth: She was betrayed/ Cheated in Sindarin.


	9. Seventh Born

His children were born in the spring.

They were twins, like Dis had predicted, a male and a female.

She'd refused to be kept in Mirkwood and had gone home shortly after she'd been healed.. She'd refused to take any aid from him, as was to be expected and had refused to let him order his subjects not to mock her. She didn't speak to the elves at all while she was within his halls and preferred to leave the parentage of the babes that grew within her a mystery. Dis would not be persuaded to stay, even though Váli and Dáli had been brought to her. Her children were scared and kept asking when their Ada was and when he would return. Dis told them that he was dead and that they were being held in Mirkwood because she'd needed to identify his body. That, of course, begged the question of why they were staying for nearly a month. She had no answer for that. Luckily for her, she'd only had to lie to her children for a short time before she'd been able to travel safely back to her village and shut him out of her life once more.

He knew he shouldn't have gone after her, that she couldn't have possibly wanted to see him, but he needed to see _them_. Their children together. One glimpse would be enough to last him a life time and he would never bother her again. He swore this to himself as he entered the village under cover of nightfall, a hood obscuring his face. He wore the guise she'd known him under. It would be easier to enter the tiny town with a familiar visage and not be questioned. Besides, he'd rather not have her shoot at him right away. He'd drop it once he arrived. The king padded silently through the empty village, heading directly for the dwarrowdam's house. The lack of rain had hit this place harder than the surrounding areas, and evidence of famine was still present. The one animal he'd seen since entering, a cat, was severely emaciated and rubbed against his leg, hoping for food. He shooed it away, murmuring that he had nothing for it. It skulked away and he worried that his former family might have been going hungry. This only quickened his step.

There were no lights in the windows of Dis's house and fear coiled round his heart. They hadn't left, had they? It was possible, though she'd just given birth little over a week ago. If she could break out of Mirkwood while heavily pregnant, surely she could manage to travel out of a small town. He rapped quickly at the door and the beating in his heart did not calm until he saw her. She looked unchanged, for the most part, but when she looked up at him, he saw once more that burning hatred. It was just a flash, and it quickly died down to a cold fury. "Did you come to see them?" Her tone was clipped, careful. She would not dignify his presence by showing any emotion. He issued a curt nod and she turned away from him leaving the door open. "You have ten minutes." He entered and tried not to look too much like an overeager puppy. It had been several thousand years since a new child was born into his household, and never had he had a daughter. He was excited, but his happiness was dampened by the knowledge that the mother of his children would see him dead.

She lead him to her room, past the closed doors that Váli and Dáli slept behind and the halls he'd grown familiar with in the year of his stay. It was quiet, save for the muffled gurgling sounds of two infants in their cribs. "Ten minutes." She repeated, but he barely heard her. Two new ives that he'd help create lay not ten feet from where he stood. Thranduil moved to advance, but she caught his wrist. "Stop pretending." They stared at each other for a moment before he dropped his disguise and grew two feet, the once comfortable room seeming tight. Dis didn't seem satisfied. "I said, _stop pretending._" He blinked down at her and his shoulder's slumped as he dropped the glamor from his left cheek, revealing the network of scars and holes. "They will know your true face." She released his wrist and nodded for him to approach the cribs.

They were so small, these children he'd created with Dis. For elven children, at least, they were minute. He could have held them both in his arms if he'd wanted to, and he desperately did. He lifted them, first the boy and then the girl and sat down on the bed he'd shared with their mother little over four months ago. They were beautiful, and as different as day and night. The boy in his right arm was pale, like he was, with the beginning wisps of straight white-blonde hair growing on his head. The girl child cradled on his left was ruddier in complexion, like her mother, and loose curls of black spilled over her forehead and into her eyes. They both had their eyes closed and were whimpering softly, but otherwise did not make any movement. It was unusual, but he would sate his curiosity later. "What are their names?"

"I told you already." His shoulders slumped slightly, but he did not let his disappointment show.

"Raenion and Gweriaeth." He sighed and looked over at the Dwarrow in the corner. Even seated and slouched, he was still taller than her. "Did you name them that to spite me?"

"I named them that because it was true. I will not hide the fact that you betrayed me and that you are a coward, Thranduil." It was the first time she'd spoken his name without adding a curse after it. He felt that it was simply because she no longer cared.

"Why are they so-"

"Listless?" He nodded. "They're sick. Elven. I can't cure it. Fancy that, my two newborns catching an illness only their estranged father had the ability to heal." Her voice was cold, apathetic, as if she were merely watching her life play out on a stage. Thranduil swallowed.

"What would you have me do?"

"Save them." Blue eyes lowered to lock on the ashen faces of his two newborns. There was never a question in his mind that he'd do anything for them and the woman who'd carried them. Hed known them such a short while, but he'd give them Nauglamir itself if they had but asked. He could tell from the look on Dis's face that she would not have asked him if the situation had not been dire and he accepted his task with a small nod.

"I wil return for them in two weeks time. Please let you guards know that I am coming. I do not fancy being shot again."

"I will."

"And Thranduil?" He rose, already bundling his children up so they'd be warm for the ride back. Blue met the ice blue of Dis's eyes and he once more felt the familiar longing for her head on his chest. He knew they could never go back. Even if he had acted on his urges and asked Dis to marry him while he was still human she still would have turned cold toward him. She could not have left him, though. Dwarrows didn't believe in divorce. He could not have added to her anger now even if he'd wanted to. It would have broken him beyond what he could bear. "Do not mistake this privilege for forgiveness. I have allowed you here, but I have not forgotten what you-"

"Ama, I had a bad dream." Thranduil would have almost mistaken the child for Váli had he not seen the mop of dark, curly locks. Dis's son had grown in his time away. She issued him a quiet command in Khuzdul, but the boy didn't listen, turning his eyes toward the elf who stood in the middle of the room, holding his siblings. "You're the one who-"

"Dáli, go back to bed."

"But, Ama-"

"Bed. _Now_." The boy gave the elf one final, hard look before turning and slowly returning to the hall. "Take them and go." Dis muttered."Before Váli wakes up. She's gotten rather good at Archery and she blames you for the death of her father."

-/.\-

It was nearly dawn before Thranduil arrived back in Mirkwood and Legolas greeted him, falling in step on his own horse. His son allowed him only a brief moment of peace before his questions began. "Where have you been?"

"Away."

"Did you go back down to the human town? Did you go see _it_ again?" Thranduil doesn't answer his son, knowing that he already knows the answer. "Did you?" The king pulled his horse around and nudged it into a trot, wanting to leave the ther elf behind. Legolas sped his horse up and pulled in front of his father. "What is that creature to you?" It was then that Raenion let out a plaintiff cry. Thranduil didn't meet the prince's eyes.

"Let me pass."

"Not until you explain yourself. You owe me-" His head snapped up and the king became himself once more.

"Legolas I am your father, but first and foremost I am your _king _and I _owe_ you _nothing_. I am an adult elf long passed my majority by at least 10,000 years. I saw the fall of Gondolin and Mordor, witnessed Ancalagon the Black block out the sun and saw Sauron himself smite hundreds with a single down swing of his sword. I have ruled over this forest for millennia and have never had an enemy take my kingdom from me. I have perpetuated the longest stretch of peace this kingdom has ever known. Do you honestly think I need to explain myself to you?" Legolas didn't answer him. "Now would you kindly let me pass? Your brother and sister will catch their death of cold in this air."


End file.
